Monday, March 25, 2013

Tribute to Our Beautiful Dog Ruben who Passed Away Today

Our beautiful, regal, handsome hound dog, Ruben passed over to the other side today, and his arrangements will be made by North Myrtle Beach Animal Hospital. Ruben came into our lives in 2001. He had been hanging around the county jailhouse, and a police man who worked there, named David, had been feeding him thrown out jail food. My mother had seen a sign at the veterinary office. David and his mother Judy, were looking for a home for this big, beautiful, black, brown and white dog, Ruben, who I miss so much. I adopted him, and he came to live with my sons, my three cats and me. The cats hissed and looked at him wearily, but soon they realized that he meant them no ill will, and they all became friends. Now they are all gone, and Ruben was last to die. I let my mother have Ruben, for practical reasons, and location being a big factor. Ruben howled like a wolf, because 1) he was a hound, and 2) hounds howl, hunting dogs, fox hounds, walkers they are also called. Ruben lived about four years longer than his breed is said to usually live, due to my mother's unusually good care of dogs, and mine a little, I suppose. We are saddened by the loss of him. One thing about hound dogs, who are very vocal, is they really talk, like humans. Sometimes, I would say something to him, in an expressive tone, or even someone else, and he would respond in the same tone. Example: one day I told my son, David, "Ruben and I are going for a walk," as I hooked his leash on his collar, which years later, I told my mother should be a harness, less pressure on the neck. Ruben went,"whooowhoowhowhowho...,"in the very tone I had said it in, as though he were trying to repeat my very words. Once he went to live with my mother, who lives in the country, I would keep him sometimes. One day I took him for a walk, and another dog was barking at him, but Ruben, very well behaved that day, did not engage, and when we had passed, I said, "that dog was barking at you." Ruben turned his head back in my direction and said, "whoowowowowo," in the very tone I had been speaking in, just matter of fact, like "I know..." He was so beautiful, so smart, so special, and I, we, will love him and miss him for as long as we can remember. A few years back, I wrote and illustrated a children's book about him called, Ruben the Jailhouse Dog, which like much of my work, has not been published. I will always miss Ruben. There is a Hindu belief, according to Dean Koontz, writer of A Big Little Life, the story of his beautiful golden retriever, and that is that, sometimes a great soul will live one life as a very wonderful dog, a very special soul, before a last incarnation a human, a very great human. If this is true, then it is true for Ruben, but as I spoke to him in the back of my mother's sedan, the other day, I told him, "you will go to a beautiful place, where you can run and play, chase dogs, puppies, cats, whatever you wish, and you can eat yummy treats, and sleep on a soft, soft bed, and if you want to come back, you can come back as a dog or a wolf, or even a person." Goodbye for now, sweet Ruben. We love you so much, beautiful boy.

I loved Ruben. Whenever I was at Phyllis's I would wash his water bowl, though she told me I didn't have to. When I would come in through the Sheriar Gate, I would kick his poops into the bushes--he had a favorite spot, it seemed. He loved coming along and was so grateful when Phyllis took him in the car. Sweet boy.